Love
by SkyeAedus
Summary: From a prompt list "Ways to Say 'I Love You'". Some of those interpretations are somewhat unusual.
1. A Hoarse Voice

**This one is Gray Ghost! It's not my favorite ship, but I don't mind it.**

"Shh, shh, it's okay." The soft caress of her hand through his hair was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Danny sighed, pulling her closer to him, both of their bodies fully hidden by the blankets, "They hated me, you know. They knew it was me, that it was me the whole damn time, and they-" His voice broke and he gave another involuntary sob.

"Danny," his girlfriend of two years responded in a quiet voice he so rarely heard her use, "I understand."

And she did. She really, truly did.

Valerie knew that his parents (no, the Fentons, not his parents, never again) had been watching his progress as a ghost ever since the accident three years ago. She remembered the betrayal she had felt when she discovered the truth about Vlad Masters, no doubt.

And wasn't that all to similar a situation? Vlad's villainous nature was as obvious as that of the Fentons - how could anyone actually be that clueless? There was a good reason the three had been friends in college, though the incident with the proto-portal really had brought that to an end. The two teenagers thought themselves lucky in at least that sense; who knows what could result from a partnership now?

But that was beside the point.

Valerie kissed Danny's forehead lightly, prompting another shaky sigh from the depressed half-ghost. A beat of silence followed before Danny's whispered words wavered up from beneath the covers where he hid his tear-stained face.

"I love you."

Valerie smiled a sad smile, "I love you too, Spook."

 **Word Count: 267**


	2. Over a Cup of Tea

**A bit of mother/son bonding stuff. Enjoy!**

Danny sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into the soft blankets in which he was cocooned. He should definitely be sick more often.

…Then again, if he had a choice between going to school and being forced to use his ghostly wail four times consecutively, he would choose school. Even the addictive pull of warmth and video games all day bowed before the threat. Vlad and his cronies had overdone it this time, though, and the likelihood of something like this happening again was low.

"Danny?" A familiar voice called from outside his bedroom door, "I'm coming in, okay?"

Danny smiled at his mother as she opened the door and stepped inside, a steaming mug held in one hand. Waving silently, he made sure to save his session of DOOM before accepting the aromatic beverage.

Maddie grinned back, "Tea with honey. That'll at least help with the soreness, and hopefully your voice will be back soon."

Danny nodded and blew gently on the tea. The puff of steam wafted towards the woman who, for once, was wearing something other than a skintight Hazmat suit. The blue T-shirt and loose sweatpants made her seem more like a mother than Danny remembered having around for…

It had been a long time.

But she was here now, caring for him despite not knowing the truth, and for that he was grateful.

Laughing lightly at the face Danny made when he burned his tongue trying to sip the tea, Maddie straightened and ruffled the half-ghost's long hair.

Yeah, things were good lately, and whether that was the calm before the storm or not, Danny would let himself enjoy it. He sent another smile at his mother and mouthed 'I love you'.

"I love you too, sweetie," Maddie said as she strode for the door, "Now, you drink up and feel better. I don't want you to miss school again tomorrow!"

With a soundless groan, Danny rolled his eyes. Yep, ghost hunter or not, a mom was still a mom.

 **Word Count: 333**


	3. Not Said to Me

**This one is weird. It was fun to write, though.**

I hate veggie burgers.

They're not particularly appealing, in my experience. Whenever I've tried them, they've been dry, and rather tasteless compared to the real thing. I guess if you're a vegetarian and haven't had meat for a long time, it could pass for the taste of beef, but it's not really up to par.

More than that, though, they've become a symbol of betrayal to me. After all, the day Sam introduced Tucker to veggie burgers is the day she was lost to me forever.

Oh, how I hate their lover's quarrels, their quick kisses in the halls, their very happiness itself. I feel horrible for thinking that way, though.

Or at least, I did. That was before they started shoving me aside. My once-loyal friends abandoned me in favor of using our Friday movie nights as dates. They told me that I wasn't wanted eight times out of ten that I asked. Nine times out of ten.

They left me to fight off ghosts on my own, neither even helping me stitch myself up when I got hurt, which was… well, far too often. I had to start planning for everything weeks in advance, testing my abilities alone, and toting around medical kits instead of textbooks.

Maybe it would have been different if Jazz had been here to help out, but she can't do much from Princeton. I'm happy for her, out there achieving all of her dreams. Still, would have been nice to have had some support.

If I had even one close friend, these events might have unfolded in a better way.

As it was, Vlad found out about my situation pretty quickly. I shouldn't have expected any less; the guy literally made tiny bugs with his face in them to spy on my life. Creep.

But much to my surprise, he didn't try to take advantage of my solitary state. Instead he was… sympathetic.

The fact that my archenemy cared more about me than my two best friends was what really did it for me. This was it - I had given up.

Apparently this was exactly what Vlad was waiting for, as he offered to give me a place to stay. It's surprisingly nice; Vlad's obsession to have a family has been appeased, and he's infinitely more pleasant to be around lately. His smiles are genuine and kind, and he actually doesn't do too badly at showing me new techniques with my powers. Plus, he can cook. Who knew?

But even though I'm laughing at Vlad's teasing, enjoying a delicious dinner of chicken marinated in a creamy sauce of some sort, my thoughts keep wandering back to those two. Even though I'll likely never see a veggie burger (or any kind of burger, for that matter) on my plate again, the meaning I've assigned them lingers.

Really, I understand Vlad a lot better now. It's so hard to listen to Tucker and Sam, my Sam, say 'I love you', my crush and my best friend. It's far easier to pretend I hadn't seen it coming.

Unlike my host, though, I'm not foolish enough to chase after my lost love. After all, she's just as much of a traitor as Tucker.

At least I'll have a few practice dummies for my developing powers.

 **Word Count: 548**


	4. When Baking CookiesI Can't Return

**Vlad is creepy sometimes.**

Jack Fenton loved his sweets almost as much as he loved ghost hunting.

Though fudge would always be his favorite, it certainly wasn't the only kind he liked. Maddie's snickerdoodles were absolutely divine, and no one made a better red velvet cupcake.

But those chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven, were undeniably her best. A touch of vanilla in the recipe helped, but something in the way she made them was different from any other Jack had ever tried.

So it's little surprise that Maddie was baking some for her husband that day, though Vlad Masters' arrival was unexpected.

"Maddie, dear, it's so good to see you!" The man exclaimed, "When was it last?"

Maddie scowled, putting the cookie sheet down and pulling off the oven mitts, "Not long enough. What are you doing in my house?"

Vlad, to his credit, didn't try to make excuses, "I'm here to see you, my dear."

Maddie scowled. Who did he think he was, blatantly trying to tear her family apart? She was no idiot; she knew full well that Vlad intended to take Her as his own, leaving her husband and their one-and-a-half-year-old daughter. Though unsure of how, she also knew he wanted to get Jack out of the picture.

Hopefully that just meant alive somewhere else.

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say, Vlad. I'm happy that you're healthy and that things are looking up for you, but even I can tell that those three years in the hospital have made you bitter," Maddie said, sounding a lot calmer than she felt.

Vlad frowned, "I am… not happy about it, perhaps, but I don't intend to let it define me. Rather, the trait that should define me is…" He swooped in and cradled Maddie's chin in one hand. She leaned back, cornered against the kitchen counter.

"The fact that I love you."

"NO!" Maddie yelled, pushing her college friend away. He blinked at her in shock as she spoke further, "I made a family with Jack. I married Jack, and I did so because I LOVE him."

Vlad stared for a moment, then his face settled into a mask of indifference, "I guess we'll need to fix that."

There was an itching sensation in the back of Maddie's mind and her vision went black.

 **This one literally resulted in one of my best friends talking to me for the first time! I have a few ideas for how to continue this one, actually, but it's low on my list of priorities right now.**

 **Word Count: 387**


	5. As a Thank You

**A Danny and Ember friendship thing. I don't really like this one, but it IS part of the set.**

"Morning, baby pop."

"G'morning, Ember," I murmured back as I sat up, rubbing at my eyes to rid them of dream sand.

My enemy-turned-ally-turned-literal-bestie snorted, and I could tell she had rolled her eyes. A moment later, a warm hand closed around my wrist and pulled me swiftly from the bed.

"Whoa!"

"Relax, Dipstick," Ember drawled as I righted myself, blinking the last of the sleep from my eyes, "It's not like I haven't seen you in your pajamas before."

I crossed my arms, "I know. I wasn't even thinking about that." I paused, "Why are you here anyway? You usually don't leave your lair any time before noon."

Ember smirked, her hair flaring behind her. "What can I say?" She answered, "I'm a night owl, but that won't stop me from joining in on the festivities!"

"…Festivities?"

"Oh, shoot," She muttered, "Was it supposed to be a surprise party or something?"

The idea clicked, but still didn't quite make sense. I raised an eyebrow, "My birthday isn't until August. It's April."

"Yeah, April 2nd! Exactly seven days before you started the heroing business. I can't have the date wrong, I checked with Clockwork."

I wasn't surprised that Ember had been talking to my mentor. Evidently, he had helped her get situated when she first formed near his lair, and they'd been sort-of-friends ever since.

My thoughtful silence must have clued Ember in to something, though, because she gasped sharply. Her eyes widened, "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"Today…" She paused in an uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty, "Today is your third deathday."

Wait, what?

Was it really three years ago that the Accident that started it all took place? Somehow, that time seemed to be as long as a dozen lifetimes, yet only a heartbeat. Time works in strange ways when you're me. And my heartbeats are really slow anyway.

"Dipstick?" Ember's voice, a mixture of concerned and amused, snapped me out of my daze. She smiled, "There you are. You okay?"

I nodded, but frowned, "Um, what does that mean?"

"It means that I need to get you two more years worth of gifts, since apparently no one had the decency to remember the anniversary of your death," Ember grumbled, but it was good-natured. She grabbed a pile of folded clothes and tossed it at me casually, "Get yourself dressed, then I've got some stuff for you. It's back at my lair, hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," I grinned as I slipped into my bathroom, phasing through cloth to change in a matter of seconds. I soon stepped back out, "Shall we?"

"Let's just go, you dork."

The journey to Ember's lair was a slow one, filled with the jokes and teasing we had grown used to in the last few months. We arrived without incident, though, and Ember hesitated before presenting me with a huge box.

And when I say huge, I mean it. This thing was taller than me!

I floated up above it, still in human form, and opened it up.

Inside was an odd assortment of items: a telescope that seemed to be one of Clockwork's relics, a black and white guitar, a few new sets of clothes for my ghost form (all in my colors with logo and all), every interest I vaguely remembered mentioning around my ghostly friend was catered to. There was even a brand new sketchbook and a set of watercolor pencils, to my surprise.

But perhaps the best part was the tiny ice-blue orb that hovered out of the overstuffed box.

I knew what orbs like these did. They were rare, found floating in the Ghost Zone at apparently random intervals. The tiny orbs allowed a ghost to create a new home completely from scratch, instead of taking over and rebuilding an abandoned island or empty door. If a ghost or group of ghosts was powerful enough, they could generate entire realms, like the Far Frozen.

"I, well, I remembered that you mentioned the problems with the GZ being all fragmented like it is, and I figured that the best way for you to fulfill that crazy obsession of yours is to dive in headfirst. Eat least now you'll have a headquarters, and based on your power levels you can probably make a new realm for allies and neutrals and all that. I mean, if you'd rather use it for something el-"

I cut Ember off with a heartfelt embrace. Our opposite cores hummed in an odd (but certainly not unpleasant) way at the close proximity. Her arms came up and she hugged me back.

"I love you so much, Em, this is awesome. You're awesome."

I felt her temperature rise in what was most certainly an embarrassed blush, but she responded with a simple, "Of course."

And, together on the newfound holiday, we laughed.

 **Word Count: 807**


	6. Over a Beer Bottle

**This one is longer than most, and is Savant Par (Danny and Tucker).**

Tucker was 99% sure that letting Danny go to a bar with him today of all days wasn't his best idea. Not by far.

"Hey, man, you should probably stop soon. I know you planned on taking a taxi home, but just because you're not going to drive doesn't mean you should be completely smashed," Tucker tried to persuade his best friend.

Said best friend giggled, "Heh. Smashed. Yer talkin' 'bout not drivin' drunk an' ya said 'smashed'."

Yeah, this was an absolutely horrible idea.

"Danny, stop. Don't take another- No, wait-" Tucker protested as Danny brought the glass back up to his lips and downed the rest of the amber liquid inside. The taller man sighed, "Alright, fine, but that's it. No more."

But of course, by the time Tucker finished his plea, Danny already had another glass - how many did that make? - in hand.

"Tucker. Tucker, lissen," Danny suddenly blurted out, blue eyes wide and unfocused.

"What, Danny." The question, hardly a question at all, came in a defeated, flat tone.

Danny leaned over conspiratorially, but didn't bother to lower his voice, "I gotta tell you a secret."

"I already know you're Phantom, Danny," Tucker assured, positive that was what his more than slightly tipsy friend was talking about, "Everyone knows. They've known since the Disasteroid incident."

Danny nodded, a strangely serious expression on his face, "Seven months an' four days b'fore Sam died."

Tucker swallowed hard around the lump that was quickly forming in his throat. That was why they were there. That was why, against his better judgement, he had finally agreed to go out drinking with the short superhero.

Five years ago exactly, Sam Manson died. She was killed by debris falling from a building damaged by a stray ectoblast.

Danny's ectoblast.

Tucker shook himself bodily from his dark thoughts of a time that had long since passed, "D-don't think like that, Danny. It's not your fault. You would never hurt her on purpose. You loved her too much for that."

"But tha's the problem, Tuck," Danny slurred, shaking his head fervently, "I din't love her love her."

…What?

"It was like, there's so much _weird_ 'bout me, an' I needed somethin' ta be _not weird_ so I acted like Paulina an' Val an' Sam was everythin' I wanted. An' if I'mma be honest, Sam an' Val were really great an' stuff, but kissin' them was like kissin' Jazz an' it just wasn't a good feelin' but I wanted ta be normal for a bit so I did in anyway."

Tucker listened to Danny's drunken ramblings in mute fascination. So it wasn't just an urban myth that everything came to light when people were drinking. Huh.

Danny continued, "Don' get me wrong, I never woulda let Sam get hurt if I'da known 'bout the buildin' an' all, but I jus' never really loved her like that. She was family."

"Danny," Tucker cut in, "Are you going somewhere with this?"

Danny chortled again, but it was a broken sound, "Nah, I'mma stay right here where I won' be smashed. But there's another part of the secret I gotta tell ya, Tuck."

Oh, really?

Tucker raised an eyebrow, nodding at his companion to go ahead. Whether Danny understood the gesture with the state he was in or not, he kept talking.

"I din't really wanna talk 'bout it, but i's been a loooong time an' I guess if I gotta say it sometime I better do it when I don' wanna stop talkin' an' I'll only wanna not stop talkin' when I'm drunk, so even though it tastes like dog piss I'll do it anyway so I can keep talkin'."

Tucker took a moment to decipher that monstrous run-on sentence as Danny paused to figure out what he was saying. After a short few seconds, he started up again, "Back before the ghos's started doin' ghos' things, I din't think much 'bout who I really like liked, an' I jus' wen' on pretendin' all the time. But at one point, I dunno when, I jus' knew wha' the problem was. I din't like girls at all.

"Tuck, the secret is… I love ya. I did fer a lot'a years an' I'm never gonna really get over it I guess, so I wanted ta say so b'fore I try ta give up."

Oh.

 _Oh._

 ** _OH._**

"Hey, uh, Danny," Tucker responded after a moment, "M-maybe we should talk about this sometime when you're not on your umpteenth glass of beer."

Danny's face fell, and he looked remarkably like a kicked puppy. He pushed the glass away, never having taken a single sip from it, "Nah, tha's okay. I don' wanna have ya humor me. I jus' wanted ta get that offa my mind."

"I never said anything about rejecting you."

Danny snapped his gaze back up to Tucker, eyes shining with unbridled excitement.

"C'mon, we need to get you back to your apartment for tonight. I don't want you trying to kiss me with beer breath," Tucker joked as he paid for the drinks the two had imbibed. He helped Danny stumble to his feet.

"'Kay. Thanks, Tuck. Yer the best."

"Says the guy who saves the world on a weekly basis in a skintight suit. I get a great view, you know."

"Cool."

 **Word Count: 915**


	7. A Scream

**WARNING: Gore and torture. Bad stuff, friends.**

I'm not sure which I hate more: the heat, the cold, or the numbness.

It burns, oh, it burns when they run that detestable scalpel across my skin, when they peel back layers of muscle to explore further. They never use any anesthetic. They think I can't really feel it, that everything is an act.

And the cold metal table seems to want to freeze my back, these chilled restraints holding me fast. I still can't phase through, and I know the equipment would electrocute me again if I tried to escape.

But the numbness is new.

New is usually good down here, since if living is absolute hell then there's nowhere to go but up. That being said, the feeling when they discovered my core was a bad kind of new. I doubt I'll be around for long enough for that newness to wear off, though.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure they're killing me, based on the strange lack of feeling currently spreading towards my core from my fingers and toes. How long do I have, I wonder? Would they care if they knew who I was?

No, I don't think they would at this point. Research trumps everything.

That thought stings, but I just need to keep chanting, reminding myself of who they are to me. So what if my voice has already long since gone raspy and broken, from my screaming? All that matters is that I keep whispering, keep hoping, keep believing.

"What are you mumbling about, ghost?" The woman asks sharply, the harsh lab lights reflecting off of her red goggles. I pay her no further mind, just saying it over and over and over and over and over and OVER AND-

"Hey, ghost!" Comes the indignant demand from a larger figure in orange, "Madds asked you a question."

I swallow thickly, and repeat it a little louder. Maybe my voice isn't as bad as I thought, since I can actually hear the words I'm saying now.

They don't have the enhanced senses of a ghost, though, so Maddie decides to make me speak up. She drives the scalpel into my exposed flesh, twisting it in the red-green mess. The unexpected pain wrenches the words out of me as a screech, "I LOVE YOU!"

Silence reigns.

Panting heavily, I whisper the rest of my chant, with no doubt that they could now hear me, "It's gonna be okay, I will come home, I love you. It's gonna be okay, I will come home, I love you."

Damn, what a time for the pain to finally start getting to me. No, I can't let myself pass out! If they see my human form, they'll-

"I-it's gonna be okay,"

But what will they do? At this rate, I don't think I'll ever wake up. Even so, maybe I can manage a quick rest…

"I w-will com-me home,"

This is too much for me. Really, what's the harm in a little shut-eye? The last time I felt this spent was… when? Where am I again?

"I love you."

The last three words are all a big sigh, and a familiar, comforting cold erupts deep in my stomach. The cold, a much better cold, sweeps over me as I finally, finally get my rest.

"…Danny?"

 **The next installment is a Part 2 of this one! How fun.**

 **Word Count: 545**


	8. An Apology

**A combination of the prompts "An Apology", "Over and Over Again, Until It's Nothing but a Senseless Babble", and "When I am Dead".**

 **WARNINGS: Same as the last chapter.**

The ghost was muttering something.

I paused in my examination of its power center (a solid crystal of blue, ice-like ectoplasm) to scan the creature. It was gasping with lungs it shouldn't even have, unneeded heart beating slowly and pale, cold lips forming a series of words. The thing must not have been aware enough to speak properly.

I put my instruments, a scalpel and a pair of forceps, back down on their tray and leaned over the ghost's face. It was trembling - why did it bother to act? - and I couldn't quite read its lips.

"What are you mumbling about, ghost?" I snapped, noting the slight tensing of its muscles. If it could, I was sure it would have flinched away. Even so, the thing kept soundlessly whispering. How had such a witless creature have evaded us for so long? Truly, it seemed to have a much more human-like intellect in all of our observations.

Jack glowered menacingly down at the spectre, "Hey, ghost! Madds asked you a question."

The ghost paused, swallowing in an obviously fake imitation of human reflex. Then it started back up with its chant, this time audibly. A few quietly hissed S's reached my ears, but I still couldn't quite make out what it was saying so obsessively.

I needed to give the subject some incentive.

Snatching the scalpel back up, I carefully selected a spot and plunged the blade in. The place was perfect, right beneath the stomach and narrowly missing a few would-be vital organs. It sunk into the inexplicably red-green flesh with a wet shink! I twisted sharply, grinning slightly. The ghost wouldn't even know, if my theories were correct, but even if it did I would get some new information.

To my genuine shock, the ghost did notice. It tensed further and strained backwards, dulled green eyes wide. It opened its mouth and let out an unholy shriek.

"I LOVE YOU!"

The words made me freeze, hand still submerged in the subject's frigid ectoplasm. No, a ghost shouldn't be able to feel the physical sensation of pain, let alone a complex emotion like love! It had to be a lie.

But the ghost (had it always looked quite so much like a human child?) continued to speak softly to the silence, "It's gonna be okay, I will come home, I love you. It's gonna be okay, I will come home, I love you."

I released my hold on the scalpel, leaving it stuck in the ghost's - Phantom's - gut. Was this… his obsession? To find his family, to make sure they were safe?

No, _it._ It was just a ghost. Not a human. It was nothing.

"I-it's gonna be okay," the teenager on the lab table rasped, weak voice beginning to waver.

I bit my lip so hard it bled. I had to remember that no matter how human these disgusting creatures could act, they were just semi-sentient globs of protoplasm. Nothing more, nothing could be less.

But hadn't they once been human?

I let out a shuddering gasp as the thought hit me. Yes, most humanoid spectres must have been normal humans once, right? Did they… Did this boy remember? Did he still love them?

"I w-will com-me home," the child - for that was all he was - stuttered, voice nearly inaudible again.

This was just a kid.

Oh, God, what had we done? What had _I_ done?

If this new theory was true, then all of Phantom's claims might be true. His pleas when we first captured him, so quickly dismissed as lies, were probably genuine the whole time. Hadn't I researched that ghost-controlling sceptre once in college, before the Proto-Portal? And I had captured shape-shifting ghosts in the past. As for the alleged framing, I had seen spirits smart enough…

Had I just cut open an innocent child?

And even further, if those claims were true, what about his heroic acts? Jack and I had always thought he was trying to win the town over, to lull us all into a sense of security just to attack when our guard was down.

But if he was honestly trying to help and protect an entire city of humans, then he was just a kid who had died too early, and who had taken on an incredible responsibility.

This could have been my son. In fact, wasn't his chosen name-

"I love you," He sighed, and a ring of bright blue-white light formed around his bare waist. The ring split in two, sweeping over his body. Familiar clothing appeared, and features changed color. The boy fell still as the lights vanished.

"…Danny?"

Jack's whisper, breathless with disbelief, drove the meaning of what I was seeing home.

The limp figure of one Danny Fenton was sprawled where Phantom had just been. His white shirt was quickly becoming soaked in a horrible deep red, speckled with neon green. It wasn't glowing anymore.

I snapped to awareness and lunged for the drawer where we kept the medical supplies. I grabbed what remained of the bandages and a curved needle for stitches. I didn't wonder where the rest had gone; I'd seen enough of my son's scars to guess.

I was all too aware of the terrifyingly shallow breaths the unconscious boy as I sewed him back together, my hands trembling. I worked through the haze of hot tears. I couldn't let Danny down.

"I'm sorry, baby," I murmured shakily as I finished, "I love you so much, sweetheart, please…" The bandages Jack helped me wind around his wounds were already dotted with blood, but it was slowing dramatically. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign.

Jack suddenly gasped, his ungloved hand resting on Danny's neck, "Madds, his pulse is too slow. I-I think we-"

"NO!" I bellowed, scrambling to find something to help. We couldn't do anything if his heart stopped; his insides were too damaged for the violet movements it would take to restart it. Finding nothing, I scooped my son, slack as a ragdoll, into my arms, "Danny, please wake up! I love you, sweetie, I love you, I love you please I love you-" I repeated the phrase like a prayer until it descended into a nonsensical, chocked babble.

Jack rested a large, gloved hand on my shoulder, prompting me to look up into his eyes. They were brimming with tears. He forced me to let him check again, two bare fingers to our youngest child's slim neck.

A moment, too long, passed before he shook his head.

"I loved him too, but that wasn't enough."

 **Word Count: 1103**

 **I usually don't like making this family suffer quite that much, but this one in particular was fun to write. Maddie realizing all of her mistakes considering ghosts all at once? Best.**

 **Thanks for reading, and have a nice day/evening! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get killed by my mother.**


End file.
